


Best Loved

by Waanderlust



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Fluff, Kitchen Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-15 22:42:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1321939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waanderlust/pseuds/Waanderlust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pastry chef  Merlin is damned if he’ll let that snobbish Arthur Pendragon win the “Best Loved Shop Award” from Merlin’s own little bakery. He’ll fight that prat tooth and nail for it… or with cake and tarts for it, as the case may be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Loved

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bloodsongs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodsongs/gifts).



> Firstly, all the love to bloodsongs for her amazing art, which came already bursting with characters and plot. It was such fun to write, I hope I've done your ideas justice as I fleshed them out. Please go and tell her how lovely her art is at her art post here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1328827
> 
> Thanks also to Camelittle for plot/SPaG beta, and chosenfire28 for the fest. It was my first time and I had a ball :D

* * *

The earliest memory Merlin had was of his mother’s kitchen in Ealdor. Whenever things got hairy and life went pear-shaped, he only had to close his eyes, remember its sounds and smells, and a feeling of warmth, security and home would be conjured up as if by magic. All at once, he would feel better.

It was a surprise to no one but himself when he fell into a temp position that became a summer gig that morphed into a full time job, with a cake shop in his name to boot.

“You always did have a special affinity for ovens,” said Hunith, when he told her what his life had become.

"I just liked the [Aga ](http://www.aga-ranges.com/media/36045/2-oven-classic-aga_cream_roomset.jpg)because it was always so warm,” Merlin said, fingering the battered four-door cooker, now relocated with his mum to a nice house in Wales.

“You were like a cat, always curled up near it for comfort,” Hunith laughed, and Merlin had to agree.

===

Such romantic notions of kitchens seemed very far away right now, after 12 grueling hours of baking.

“That's it for me,” Merlin thumped the steel door of the industrial refrigerator shut and turned around to glare at Will. “I have to run.”

“That’s right, abandon us in our time of need,” Will said, not looking up.  

Merlin would have bumped Will rudely if it hadn’t been for the marzipan layer his best friend and shop co-owner was carefully easing over three half globes of cakes. Instead, he settled for smacking Will’s hair in a silent scolding to "wear your chef’s hat, for God’s sake!"

 “Please, it’s a [pregnant lady cake](http://blog.cornerstorkbabygifts.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/03/pregnant-belly-cake.jpg),” Merlin sniffed. "Hardly the most demanding job?”

Merlin whipped off his apron and cast a last glance at what passed for the kitchen at the back of their shop. The small space was all steel counters and white cabinets, sprinkled with the mish-mash of plates and crockery and mixers in assorted colours (second hand buyers couldn’t be choosers). His kingdom, so as to speak. Although now, he felt like trading his kingdom for a bowl of stew. Or anything with meat in it.

There was no time for that if Merlin wanted to make the 18:21 from Temple Meads. He barely had time to rip off his apron, grab his kit, wave to Freya at the counter (“Say hi to your mum for me!” "Yeah, sure!”) and shoot out into the wet streets. At least he’d remembered to change out of his clogs this time.

The rain was bracing once he left the warm glow of EMchanted (which everyone called Em’s because, yeah, it wasn’t the best name nor the easiest one to pronounce, but no one could be bothered to think of a better name). Why were Januaries so long and horrible?

The idea of a bacon butty seemed a billion times more appealing in the chill. Merlin hurtled down the pavements of Princess Victoria Street, swerving around the packs of Uni students. Most of the shops were already closed, but the light was still on the butcher’s shop in the corner. He’d try his luck there.  

“Hello?” Merlin called, pushing through the heavy doors and wiping the rain from his face. ”Are you open?”

The lights were ablaze, but the shop appeared vacant. Merlin blinked and scanned the rows of empty display cabinets. A banner overhead declared, “High Steaks: Gourmet Choice Meats” and the brick walls were decorated with newspaper cuttings and plaques.

Merlin jumped when a strident voice echoed across the room.

“Deliveries so late? Round the back!”

A figure detached itself from the shadows at edge of the shop and moved into the light.

"Oh,” said Merlin uncertainly.” No, I’m not… I just... I mean, mate, could I please have some prosciutto? You do deli meats here, don’t you?”

The man- a guy that looked not much older than Merlin- stalked to the counter and yanked off his plastic gloves. He didn’t look pleased. Even in his confusion, Merlin clocked a ruggedly handsome face, floppy blond hair and broad shoulders. Right now, that face was screwed up in a scowl and cherry red lips were pouting.

“We’re closed, ‘mate’” the blond said shortly, pointing to a sign on the countertop. Merlin squelched nearer to peer; it was a small sign in faded letters. He rolled his eyes. As if anybody could read that lilliputian signage.

Merlin would have left there and then if his stomach hadn’t rumbled, reminding him why he was there in the first place. He swallowed his irritation and tried to make nice.

“Please,” Merlin said. "I’m starving, I just need a bit of…”

The blond cut him off. “Ah, and deaf too. We’re done for the day, you can come back tomorrow.” He looked Merlin up and down and Merlin felt his cheeks flame. He probably looked like a drowned cat, with water dripping off him and hair plastered to his face.

It’d been awhile since Merlin’s intern days, but this idiot acted exactly like his old sous chefs, except he wasn’t Merlin’s chef, wasn’t his boss, wasn’t anyone at all but an irritating git. Hell, Merlin was meant to be the customer here, and he wasn’t going to be treated like the lowest rung of the kitchen ecosystem. The butcher’s boy’s flinty glance made him feel small, and that annoyed him no end.

“Listen, ‘mate’,” Merlin used his best assertive voice, the one that could carry across industrial cake mixers and oven timers. "Is that how you treat people? You should just lock your stupid door if you’re shut, or how about you put a sign at the entrance instead? And you don’t have to be so rude about it! Honestly!”

The blond arched his eyebrows and pointed to the door.

Oops. There was a sign. Merlin must have missed it in his rush and his hunger-induced light-headedness.

“Oh,” Merlin deflated, but refused to back down. “Fine, you didn’t have to be such a prat about it. I mean, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t really need food…” Merlin’s stomach rumbled again, this time loudly and painfully. It was too late; the gastric pangs had started.

Merlin must have grimaced in pain, because the blond’s face softened and he made as if to say something.

Merlin didn’t want to hear anything else. He gave up. The universe obviously did not intend for him to get any food. Not here, at least. He hoped he still had some of those old baps in his bag.

 

He turned to head back out the door, remembering dimly that he had a train to catch. Behind him, the blond cleared his throat and spoke, “Look…”

Maybe it was the exhaustion of the long day, or the gastric pain fogging his mind. Merlin’s foot suddenly slid out from under him. There was a blur of flashing images, a loud yelp, a crash and a bang on his shoulder and an ache on his bum. His gaze settled onto a view of a brown ceiling.

Disoriented, Merlin closed his eyes to stop the dizziness.

Footsteps sounded and stilled next to him. “Shite! That looked like a bad fall, are you all right?”

In his world of darkness, Merlin counted silently to three. He still couldn’t speak, and tried for a shrug, which only hurt his throbbing shoulder. Great, that would bruise beautifully.

Then there was a hand on his shoulder, patting him down and trying to help him up. Even with the assistance, it was difficult. Merlin’s foot kept slipping, and his hand landed on wet slicks when he pushed himself up.

“Why," Merlin said, when he was safely upright. “Why was there a bloody puddle in the middle of your shop?”

He realised the blond was holding him by his arm only when the butcher’s boy let go.

“Are you implying that it’s my fault?” said the blond, eyes narrowed. “You’re the one who tracked all that water in! You're not the one who has to clean up the mess!”

Merlin ignored him, eyeing his bag strewn on the floor and a golden patch next to it. He sighed. It was his maple syrup gift for Hunith. The glass bottle lay in a heap of fragments. 

The blond kept on ranting, “Next time, just stand at the door and shout your order. When it’s _open_ , at regular hours, like normal customers, please. In fact, you know what, just _phone_ your order in. No need to come in at all!”

What a prat. “Fine, I wouldn’t want to come in any way!” Merlin said. He’d be damned if he let this snob lord over him. “ _Your_ shop, who do you think you are?! Is this your grandfather’s shop? Acting all high and mighty!”

The blond laughed, “Almost! It’s my father’s shop, and I say you should keep out!”

“My pleasure!” Merlin’s his blood was really boiling now. “I hope you’re happy! I’m still starving, my stomach hurts, my mum’s gift is ruined and **—** oh shit, oh shit, I'm late for my train!”

Merlin snatched his things off the floor and rescued what he could of the maple syrup bottle. He banged the door behind him loudly (those doors were really very heavy), muttering darkly to himself all the way through Tesco’s (at least they had dry floors), through the expensive cab ride and onto the train.

Some people were just awful human beings, even if they had faces like angels and bodies like Greek gods. Humph!

 

======

Merlin ignored the commotion from the front of the shop and kept dipping cake lollipops.  It was exceptionally chaotic and crowded in the shop today, and those lollipops weren’t going to ice themselves.

It was massively busy because it was the first Saturday of March. When the bakery was under Gaius, there was often special festive day meant to thank regular customers. Merlin remembered what a childhood treat it was for him to visit the posh city of Bristol and stuff his face with cake at Uncle Gaius’ shop. When Merlin took over last year, he continued the tradition, and today was the day.

Streamers abounded and the shop was set up to look like a living room. Things were in complete disarray, as they ought to be at any good party. Miraculously, the rain had stopped, so the awning was up and the doors were thrown open. Customers had been streaming in steadily and now stood draped over counters, chatting and scoffing baked treats.

As it happened, the Great British Bake-Off was on telly last night. This meant EMchanted had scrambled to include a Jubilee Cake in the day’s specials, to prepare for the inevitable requests for “a cake just like what we saw last night”. The other special was the cake lollipops for the children; these were selling like hotcakes, which was why Merlin was hidden in the back kitchen frantically making more.

Out of the commotion came shouts for him. “ _Merlin_!!”

“Coming!” Merlin yelled, sliding the cake lollipops into the fridge. He emerged blinking and bewildered into a blinding light. There was a gaggle of strangers crammed into the shop, and a microphone was thrust in front of him.

“Ah, you must be shop owner and baker extraordinaire, Mr Merlin Emyrs himself!” gurgled a lady in thick make-up. The reflection off the lense of a massive camera twinkled behind her.  

“Umm, yes, that’s right.” Merlin schooled his face into a professional look. He hoped it was. For all he knew, he looked like a parrot.

“We’re here from the Bristol Retailer’s Association,” she continued. Merlin stopped himself from saying “BRA” out loud. “We’re delighted to inform you your shop has been nominated for the ‘Best Loved Shop Award’.”

“Wha **—** what?” the crowd was pressing in around them, and Merlin struggled to think. Best Loved Shop? EMchanted? Bloody hell! Oh, shit, he couldn’t swear on camera.

“Yes, based on nominations, you are one of the two local Clifton Village shops in the top ten spots!”

“Oh wow, seriously? That’s ameezing. I mean **—** AMAZ-ing." Merlin tried to control himself in his excitement; his accent always slipped when he flailed, but this really truly was incredible. Their little shop! He could feel his face split by a huge grin.  

Merlin collected himself enough to say what an honour it was and thank all their faithful customers. He nodded and smiled and nodded some more (quite certainly a parrot lookalike then).  A slightly more coherent Freya took over and smoothly introduced their cakes.

“Today’s cakes are our traditional best-sellers,” said Freya over the din of the crowd. She waved a practiced hand at the baked goods. “We have the good old Victoria Sponge, eccles cake, scones - with clotted cream and strawberry jam, of course- and the Battenberg Sponge.”

Merlin found Will next to him and, unable to do the jig of happiness he really wanted, settled for frantic shaking and mutual pumping of arms. “I’m really happy for you, mate,” Will dropped his usual grouchy demeanour and slung an arm over Merlin.

“Will, it’s as much your shop as it is mine,” beamed Merlin. It had been a hard 18 months to take over the shop and get things into shape amidst a tide of red ink. Who knew that being a good baker wasn’t enough to guarantee that a shop could survive?

When Merlin had calmed down a little, he became aware of someone staring at him. He did a double-take at the blond figure lolling by the wall.  

“You!’ Merlin spluttered, his little bubble of joy bursting immediately. “What are you doing here?”

The blonde pushed himself upright and strolled over.

“Why can’t I be here?” the blond said. “So it’s Mr Merlin Emrys is it? I thought the place belonged to an old man?" He looked Merlin up and down and Merlin was uncomfortably reminded of similar scrutiny at their previous meeting.

"You don't look like a baker. Aren't all bakers skinny twigs?” The unwelcomed visitor said appraisingly. His glance flickered over Merlin's chest. Hey, Merlin was _up here._

“Yeah, well, the shop’s mine now. What do you know about bakers anyway?  Haven’t you seen Peeta in the Hunger Games?" Merlin blurted it all out before he realised that referencing a fictional character might not have been the most professional thing to do.

“Anyway, it’s better than being fat.” Merlin stared meaningfully at the blond, and was satisfied to see him look indignant. Beside him, Will looked on in askance.

“I’m not fat!” the butcher’s son said flatly. “I just came to see who our competition was. I see I needn’t have worried, so I’m off.’

Merlin glowered as the blond sauntered away, all easy grace and cocky disposition. Why was the world full of arseholes? Arseholes with very shapely arses. Poetic justice.

“Who was that?” Will asked.

“Some big-headed snob who thinks he owns the world,” Merlin replied, eyeing the blond till he disappeared from sight. “He’s the son of the butcher’s at that place down the road.”

“You mean Pendragon’s?”

“Er, i don’t know the name. The place with the red bricks?”

“Well, if that’s Pendragon’s son, then he might well own much of the world.” Will said. “That family has business interests all over, they’re very well connected.”

“Oh bollocks. Really? Just great. He came to sneer at us. Apparently they’re also in the running for this competition thing.” Merlin sighed, suddenly tired.

“Hey, big doesn’t mean better you know!” Will nudged Merlin. “Let’s follow the film crew. They said they were going to film over there next! We’ll scope out the competition!”

They fled from an indignant Freya  (“What? You can’t be leaving now? Who’s going to help me with the crowd?”) and craned their necks to see the film crew at work at High Steaks.

Pendragon Junior’s hair glinted, a shiny halo beneath the camera lights. He was flanked by two men, the taller of whom had rippled arms, and looked like he could wrestle a bull to the ground by himself.

“So, Mr Pendragon **—** ”

“Just Arthur, please.” So that was his name.

Merlin was staring directly at Arthur’s face when he smiled at the interviewer. It lit up his whole countenance and upped his charm quantum levels. He was startled at the transformation from a somewhat generically good-looking guy to one oozing with genuine warmth and personality. Was this even the same bloke?

“Yes, High Steaks, which our long-time customers will know as Pendragon & Co., are delighted to have been nominated again for this award.”  Arthur nodded and quirked a smile again. His dark blue apron was spotless and he looked like he should be in a fashion shoot instead of in a butcher’s shop.

He continued speaking, “We’ve always been about quality and service. ‘Good meat, fresh meat’, prime and local and all-natural. It’s harder work, but you can taste the difference. So much better than boxed cryovac beef.”

“He’s really working the cameras,” Will whispered. Merlin sucked his cheeks in. He pressed in nearer to the filming area and they wound up lurking behind the hanging legs of ham.

From there, they had a good view as Arthur smoothed down his collared shirt and tugged at his rolled-up sleeves. Did all meat cutters have such muscular and toned forearms? Arthur indicated to the men next to him and said, “My guys- this is Leon and that muscle-man there is Percy-  are the best in the business. We’ll wait on you hand and foot, and you’ll never find us clueless about what we’re selling. “

Merlin kept pulling Will closer and closer, drawn like a moth towards the light. The shop wasn’t very crowded and he has no wish to let Arthur spot him, so they ended up on a meandering path around the counters.

After what seemed like endless minutes of PR spiel worthy of a professional, Arthur closed with a flourish, “So as we always say, be a slob! That’s S.L.O.B. — Support Locally Owned Business!” He grinned and looked up, squarely into Merlin’s line of sight.

Merlin tried to duck down out of Arthur’s view. His head caught on a leg of lamb, and swung it like a pendulum. When Merlin frantically reached out to make it stop moving, ingrained instinct screamed at him "don’t touch the meat without any gloves!" and he snatched his hand back, only to catch bump it squarely against a stack of sausages.

The artfully arranged sausages toppled in what seemed like slow-motion. There was a domino-effect ripple of movement all the way from one side of the counter to the other. Merlin watched in horror as sausage after sausage slipped and rolled and tumbled this way and that, all landing eventually in a lumpy heap on the pristine floor.

This, thought Merlin, was their cue to get the hell out of enemy territory.

Thanks to their long history of numerous escapes and close shaves, all Merlin had to do was tug at Will's sleeve and nod towards the sausage avalanche, and in an instant they were beating a hasty retreat. The sausage spillage hadn't attracted any attention yet, but when Merlin risked a last glance backwards, Arthur was attempting to extricate himself from the interview while casting furious glares at Merlin and Will, so he _knew_ at least one person had seen them. Unfortunately, it was the person he'd least wanted to spot them.

"Merlin! What was that?" Will asked once they were safely back on the street. "Since when did you become such a klutz?"

Merlin shrugged. "I'm not, really, that's just it. Something about that stupid shop makes me clumsier than usual. Or bad feng shui. Did I tell you one night I bungled in when they were closed and slipped on their wet floor? Yeah, I know right?"

"You did?"

"Sheesh, yes. It's normally _you_ making a mess, innit?" Merlin danced away from Will’s slap and they both re-entered the chaos of the EMchanted kitchen.

 

======

 

The initial euphoria over the shop's nomination had died down by the time Merlin saw the BRA people again. Apparently because it was "a community, not a competition", he and Arthur were to be filmed at their community service events doing things _together_.

" _Together,_ Freya!" Merlin moaned into his cuppa. It was not yet the time of the day for him to act adult and chirpy. "Why, why, why? He's such a prat!"

"Yes, Merlin, you tell us that every day, normally about this time, unless you're drunk in which case you tell us all the time," said Freya patiently. She paused while loading the deserts and cakes into the display cabinets and stared critical at a tray. "Merls, this Choux pastry swan thing tends to sag after midday. Droopy necks and sad swans don't look good. Anything you can do about it?"

"Life was so much easier when I was just plating desserts," Merlin continued in the same moaning tone. "Try to sell it before midday then? Ouch! Don't pinch me! Some respect please for your pastry chef!"

He rubbed his bruised arm and said, "All right, it might be the humidity, I'll tweak the recipe."

"Is this award a big deal?" Freya asked, moving onto the next display cabinet with a tray of tarts. Merlin nodded vigorously. "Then make good with him. Suck it up and be professional. I know you can do it, Merlin! I've seen you. Do you _want_ to suffer through the hours of filming together?"

The tarts gleamed pleasingly under the counter lights. Merlin congratulated himself for finally getting the glaze right. No, not just right, it was _perfect._

"What? Should I be bringing him flowers or something?" Merlin said.

Freya continued straightening the rows of tarts.

"Something from the shop?" Freya's voice was slightly muffled, bent as she was over the lowest shelf. "Come on, Merls. Be the bigger man."

"You just secretly want discounts so you can buy fancy beef from them and escape the clutches of Tesco’s," Merlin said.

"Nooo. Maybe? Alright, yes then." Freya straightened up and smiled beatifically. "I'm thinking of the shop! We could buy meats from them and finally, finally make some savoury pastries? Maybe they'll live up to your exacting standards for meat supplies. Since they were founded in the Middle Ages or whatnot and all that."

Merlin snorted. "Yes, I can just see that- knights dropping by to buy their meats. 1979, you mean." He was feeling better (the wonders of tea) and more conciliatory.

"You're doing goldfish lips again," Freya said. She pursed her lips to imitate Merlin. "That's a good sign."

"You know me too well," Merlin said. “Since we’re talking about the knights; in the spirit of doing the honourable thing, I shall hencewith bringeth some tarts to make peace."

"Good idea. Do it now."

"Right now?"

"Spot on. Here, take this box of tarts, they're a little too crumbly to last long. What, it's true!" Freya ignored Merlin's annoyed look. He should be grateful she knew all their baked goods so well, given the long hours she spent working with them.

"Write something on the box. No, not directly on it!"

"I'm not going to waste our good gift cards on Prince Prat."

"Fine, use a post-it then."

Merlin mused that girls could be scarily efficient. Barely ten minutes after Freya first broached the topic, he was standing outside High Steaks again. The shop doors had more than one sign plastered over them, and he frowned as he approached.

 

"Warning!! No maple syrup on the premises. Yes, I'm talking to you, big ears. Actually scratch that, you're not allowed in the shop at all."

Well!

Merlin read the note a few times over, open-mouthed and slack-jawed. Rude! Some people were just _rude._ Coming from old money obviously had not improved Arthur’s banners. Arthur was blowing this all out of proportion, and it made Merlin’s blood boil.  

This charming sign was accompanied by a stick diagram- Arthur's rendering of him, he supposed.

Merlin drew back, suddenly afraid to show too much interest in the sign and out himself. He touched his ears instinctively; it had been some time since he’d been teased about them.

A younger Merlin might have stomped off in a huff, but he was older and wiser, mellowed by grappling with difficult people and issues in the last two years. He forced himself to breathe evenly and to relax his balled-up fists. What was this small petty gesture in the face of more important things?

Merlin would definitely need to be the bigger man, if that prat was acting so badly. Honestly, it was like a child's note.

He shunted aside to let a customer exit, chewing his lip. Technically, he _did_ dirty the man's floor and ruin his sausage display (as ill- advised as that awful display was).

Merlin pulled out his pen and added a "SORRY" across the top of his note. He harrumphed, underlined the word, and pushed through the doors for the third time in two weeks. Hopefully he wouldn't be thrown out before he could hand over the tarts. It would be tragic if the tarts got damaged as innocent bystanders. He held them a little closer at that thought and peeked in.

 

Lady Luck was not on his side. Arthur stood at the counter nearest to the door, and a little tinkle had alerted him of Merlin's presence. He wasn’t in a good mood; his face was drawn and eyes tired- so different from his previous glamorous celebrity chef image. He only looked more unhappy when he caught sight of Merlin.

" _You_!!" Arthur bellowed. "Hey, I said you weren't allowed in here!" He brandished a chopper with one arm and Merlin thanked his trial by fire in internship kitchens that had steeled him against loud, shouty man gesticulating with sharp things. He gave his best bright and friendly smile, but no dice, it bounced right off Arsehole Arthur (and landed with a splat on the floor); the man seemed in a foul mood today, much worse than in previous meetings.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, butcher boy!" Merlin called out. "I'm not coming in, see, my foot is still at the door." He eyed a bench just inside of the shop, within a stone's throw of himself.

Merlin eased his cargo smoothly onto the bench while holding Arthur's gaze. He gave himself a pat on the back for this third and least catastrophic visit to High Steaks, put both empty hands up in a comic gesture of surrender, and made a big show of stepping back out through the door, to find an amused customer behind him eyeing his antics.

"Oh er, sorry, here you go!" Merlin opened the door for her in a manner worthy of a  Claridges doorman, and couldn't resist looking through the door as he did. He could see Arthur had found and opened his peace offering, and now stood looking at the tarts. Merlin couldn’t see his face, but he could see enough to declare that his mission was  accomplished.

Or not?

Merlin had not gone ten feet when someone called, "Wait! Hold _on!"_ and a blond figure came up behind him. Arthur. Merlin looked quickly around to make sure there were witnesses, lest an enraged Arthur decide to take him to task there and then.

"You're welcome," Merlin said quickly. He had decided to get this over with as fast as possible, and if lying through his teeth was the way to achieve it, that was what he would do. He slowed down, but didn't break stride.

"Idiot, just _stop_ will you? Are you _really_ deaf?"

Merlin was forced to stop in his tracks when confronted face-on by Arthur. This was their first proper meeting, and he was glad to see that they were evenly matched in height and build. There was a beat of silence as they eyed each other up. Arthur gaze flickered up and down, then he looked away.

"What are you _looking_ at?" Merlin blurted before he could stop himself. "Why do you keep looking at me like I'm some insect?

"I'm _not_! What do you mean? I'm not always looking at you! Don't be so sensitive!" Arthur said. He shuffled in place from left to right.  

"Anyway, what do you want?" Merlin wasn’t going to called him ‘Arthur” as if they were friends or something.

Arthur frowned. "You don't sound very apologetic." Merlin realised Arthur was still holding the box of custard tarts in his hands. His little note flapped on the side of the box and seemed to mock Merlin.

"Actions speak louder than words," Merlin said.

Arthur's eyes were extremely blue, and at this moment, they were clouded with something Merlin couldn't read. At least he didn't look angry any more. The blonde fingered the slip of paper for what felt like a long time.

"Look," Arthur finally said in a low tone. "I think we got off on the wrong foot. So, yes, this isn't a completely inappropriate guess, I don't hate fruit tarts."

"Is this you trying to say 'Thank you'?" said Merlin, half serious. "If so, you're doing a terrible job of it."

"What happened to 'Actions speak louder than words'?" countered Arthur. "I'm here, aren't I? You _did_ destroy that stack of sausages that day **—** oh come on, I _saw_ you and that pal of yours!"

Merlin flushed. "It was an accident! I said I was _sorry_! You didn't need to go all guerrilla on me and stick an exclusion order on your front door."

"Oh. That. Or... It might have been a bit of a joke."

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"Oh fine. Can you blame me? You kept making a mess of things with your clumsiness."

"It’s not me. Your floor was wet, your sausage display was flimsy and..." Merlin threw up his hands." You know what, just forget it, this was a bad idea. Give them back, then." He made as if to take the box but Arthur snatched it away.

"You can't un-give a gift! It's not done!"

"Of course I can."

"No, you can't! Possession and title have passed!"

"Huh? Stop confusing me with long words."

Merlin didn't really want the tarts back -Freya would give him hell. "Fine," he said. "Keep them. Can we call a truce? Please just stop trying to get the last word in will you? We're both busy people, we have shops to keep afloat and customers to serve, let's not waste time on this small thing. I heard we're doing joint community events next week, so, how about, you don't make things hell for me, and I will try, _try_ , God help me, to keep out of your way."

"Technically we're competitors." Arthur said, eyes hooded.

"I meant a truce for this," Merlin waved a hand between both of them. "Not for that award." 'This', whatever that meant.

Arthur nodded slowly, and for a second, Merlin felt as if they should shake hands to seal that agreement. He settled for turning his palm up. Arthur looked blankly. “Am I meant to hold your hand?" he said. Merlin rolled his eyes and said, "Never mind. You really are terrible at making peace."

Merlin side -stepped around Arthur, shaking his head but smiling broadly. Behind him, Arthur said loudly, "I resent that!"

  
======

 

"Why do you get the cute small kids and I get the hulking chavs?" Arthur asked.

"Because I'm cute like fluffy bunny slippers and you have a temper like the Hulk?" Merlin said. He pulled on a familiar apron in an unfamiliar kitchen full of butchering things.

"Idiot, you."

"Because I did cupcakes that were nutritious and healthy and you wanted to teach people to cut meat. So what did you expect to get, little old ladies with walkers? These are social welfare projects!"

"I learnt to cut meat when I was only nine." Arthur pulled his own apron on, sadly concealing a well-shaped arse. Merlin was becoming an expert at discreet ogling using the time-honoured side-glance method.

"You are a mutant. No, it's no use threatening me with a knife, I know you can't bear to blunt the blade on my thick skull. You were apprenticed in your family shop, that's different."

The truce seemed to be working. At their last appearance, they had been extremely civil in public and sniped at each other relentlessly in private. Merlin counted it a victory and steadily pushed the limits of how he could wheedle Arthur; the man was so predictable and hilarious to wind up. Arthur responded to Merlin's name calling (dollop-head, prat, snob, fat) with some of his own (idiot, wazzock, dolt, fool).

Arthur didn't stop the staring though, and Merlin didn't call him out on it because he didn't mind it so much now. To be honest, he was appreciating Arthur's aesthetic form as well (as they called it in art class), even if said form was tragically buried under a blue apron most of the time. Still, there were brooding eyes and a regal jawline to admire, and Arthur's broad shoulders were still well apparent.

Best of all, really, was Arthur's posh voice. His clipped tones made him sound like a Beeb newscaster- if newscasters were reciting cuts of meat and optimum temperatures for storing meats. Merlin mocked Arthur mercilessly for his accent, and made him repeat offal-esque terms until he was rolling in the floor in mirth and Arthur was laughing at him in turn. ("Honestly, Merlin, you are the oddest person I have ever met! All I said was 'tripe'!")

Arthur's voice was also a lady-killer. Right now, he was charming the socks off the Boys' Home officer who was their project liaison, saying soothing things about the importance of discipline, teaching young people to respect the sanctity of animal life, and laying a foundation of useful skills for life. Merlin snorted. They would be lucky if the teens didn't fall asleep in their workshop or hack the meat to bits.

The chavs **—** sorry, teens **—** seemed immune to Arthur's charming voice; luckily, Arthur also had a "head chef/ commanding officer" voice which he used to good effect. It didn't hurt that Arthur easily hauled a massive leg of beef onto the counter himself, muscles rippling with nary an ounce of effort. Still, the really scary ones huddled in the last row of the kitchen, looking nigh unimpressed. Merlin would not want to meet them in a dark alley.

Merlin tried to look useful, standing next to Arthur and handing him cutting tools; just like a physician's assistant, Merlin thought.

"Got that? Ok, now your turn, boys!" Arthur said.

The cluster of sloth-like teens hardly stirred.

"Get to your work stations! Now!" Arthur invoked his Commanding Officer voice.

There was some desultory shifting, and the boys ambled towards the steel tables. The meat and equipment had been neatly set out beforehand by a complaining Merlin, supervised by Arthur.

"This ain't even a proper chicken," one sneered when he saw the meat. To keep costs down, they were using a poussin for carving practice instead of a turkey.

"It doesn't matter, they’re the same skills. You can do it on a small bird, you can carve a big one." Arthur said.

Suddenly, there were raised voices from the back. In an instant, the atmosphere on the room grew tense. Everyone stopped to look at the back row and those closest took a step back. Two of the teens were arguing loudly.

"I was here first," growled a lanky black boy with an expression like a pug, hovering over the coveted corner seat that both seemed to want.

"Like hell you were!" a beefy blond teen spat back.

Arthur moved in a sprint, and Merlin scrambled after Arthur as fast as he could, but by the time they reached the trouble-makers, both teens had snatched up their knives and were circling warily.

Angry shouts rang out and warnings were exchanged.

"You think you're better than us, don't you?"

"You're just a piece of shit, is what you is!"

"Why don't we all just calm down?” Merlin shouted into the din, not sounding calm at all himself.

Arthur wasted no words. He stepped behind the larger boy, the blond, executed some kind of hold with one hand and forced the boy's hand back with the other.

"Argh!” The blond teen yelped. His knife clattered to the floor.

"Not in my class you don't," gritted out Arthur, releasing the arm but still keeping a firm hold on the boy.

Merlin crossed to Arthur's right and turned so he faced the black boy directly.

"Give me that now," Merlin said resolutely, looking the boy directly in the eye. "No need for that anymore. _Now_."

The boy looked left and right, but with Merlin closing in on him, there was little assurance from his pals. He dropped his gaze and his head and arm followed. Merlin caught the boy's wrist and pried away the knife.

The Boys' Home officer rushed in and took the fight-happy pair from Arthur and Merlin, scolding loudly at the top of her voice.

"I said to _behave_ , didn't I? A measly hour or so and still, you lot can't keep out of trouble. I _knew_ this was going to happen once they said you'd have knives!" The officer glared accusingly at Arthur, as if this was his fault. Merlin quickly took the offending knives somewhere safe and made himself scarce as well.

When the commotion over, Arthur tried valiantly to regain control of the group, somewhat unsuccessfully. It was all he could do to make the remaining boys make a stab at the poussins. Arthur corrected a couple of their attempts and ended the session early. It was a small mercy that the BRA film crew had left when the scuffle broke out, so the disintegration of the session was not recorded for posterity.

They both kept a polite veneer till the now-grumpy officer herded all the boys out of the kitchen. Once the door closed, Merlin rolled his eyes and face palmed. "Bloody gangsters! That's the last time I do any community work with delinquents!"

Arthur didn't respond. He went into a practiced clean-up routine for the premises, wiping down the counters, clearing the raw meats safely, and checking and counting the knives before storing them. Arthur made a face at the mutilated poussins and tossed them into a container, Merlin supposed for scraps or making mince.

It was the quietest Merlin had ever seen Arthur, and it unsettled him. Suddenly unsure of himself around Arthur again, Merlin followed Arthur's lead and helped clean up. He snuck looks at Arthur, wondering what to make of his flat expression and narrowed mouth. The minutes went by slowly, but Merlin couldn't bring himself to declare himself done and run off, so he ended up just standing there awkwardly.

Arthur finally seemed to notice him and said, "Oh. Thanks, Merlin, that's all for today."

Now Merlin was really worried. This wasn't like Arthur at all.

"Umm, you ok? " Merlin asked. "That was pretty good stuff, by the way, where did you learn to disarm someone like that?"

A shadow of a smile came flitted across Arthur’s face. "I don't get to that everyday, do I? I was in the Cadets at school, that's where." Arthur finally looked at him, "You weren't that bad yourself, baker boy."

"That would be pastry chef to you, butcher boy," Merlin said." I don't just bake, you cabbage-head." He brushed his own shoulder in mock praise, and said, "I learnt early on when I didn't have any strength or mass to speak of that I could still take on bullies."

"You have plenty of mass to speak of now," Arthur said, his eyes raking over Merlin again. Merlin’s face grew hot- damn it, he never could control his blushing.

"Thanks to hours of hefting bags of flour and pummelling dough, yes I do," Merlin didn't believe in false modesty. It really did feel good to have some muscle after years of being skinny.

"So, you ok?" Merlin asked again. "It wasn't filmed or anything, so it might not affect your rating for the award."

"Or course it will, the news will get back to the BRA. I'm already at a disadvantage to you with the adorable kids and you being like 'fluffy bunny slippers' cute," **—** Arthur didn't seem to be sarcastic here, to Merlin's shock **—** "Now this has to happen, I'm sure there'll be some bloody 'incident report', my dad won't be happy to hear it."

"Your dad?" It was the first mention of Pendragon senior.

"She's right, you know, they shouldn't have approved letting those thugs loose around weapons," Arthur said, changing tack. "But I thought they would have known what this lot of boys could do, what the risk was." He looked up, eyes big and troubled, "I just wanted to this to work out well. I misjudged."

"Hell, Arthur, you're not blaming yourself for this, are you?" Merlin patted Arthur lightly on the elbow.  Arthur stirred but didn't move away. "We just get fixed up for these things, it's part of the gig. There was no harm done."

Merlin had no idea why he was encouraging his competitor, but he couldn't stand to see what he'd come to realise was Arthur's introspective and sad face. "You probably always want things to be good, perfect even," Merlin said, earning a tiny nod from Arthur. “But people are human, you can't control them."

Merlin added," That's why I prefer working with dough, and you likely prefer dead animals."

Arthur gave a small smile, and Merlin felt like the sun had come out. Merlin pressed on, "I know I'm not a dead animal, but how about we grab a drink? I could use a pint after that drastic face-off today."

"Merlin, you barely lifted a finger," Arthur said. His severe tone was marred by the way his mouth was twitching.

"I used the force of my mind, the highly skilled don't need to lift a finger," said Merlin. He hid his relief by tugging at Arthur's apron strings. "Come on, let's get this off."

"What?" Arthur widened his eyes.

"What do you mean what? Oh god! No, I didn't mean it like _that_ , just that we should get out of our work outfits, is all!" Merlin back-pedaled.

Arthur smirked, "Not at all, if you're that keen to serve me, you can clean my apron, and my shoes. Polish my knives while you're at it."

Merlin whacked Arthur with his balled-up apron. "Less talk and more alcohol, please."

  
======

"I said a pint at the pub, not fancy craft beer at a poshballs restaurant," Merlin said, feeling under-dressed.

Arthur, on the other hand, fitted right in. He looked smashing, good enough to eat **—** with a spoon. And enjoyed with loving licks. When Arthur emerged with street clothes, Merlin had almost choked on his tongue. Arthur looked better than he had imagined, buff biceps and a fine sprinkling of blond hair leading Merlin’s gaze to the dip of his V necked top. The thin tee hugged Arthur's chest and emphasized his muscular back, or it did until they slid into their seats and the gloom of the pub obscured Merlin’s view.

"This _is_ a pub, you idiot, it's a gastropub," Arthur said without heat. "You agreed to have the Winter Pimms, don't go blaming it on my posh taste now, no, no, I _know_ you."

Merlin opened his mouth, then shut it again. "Busted," he said. "I must be getting predictable. But you have to admit, normal 'bars' don't have their own coat of arms!" They both looked up at the [big crest](http://www.thealbionclifton.co.uk/images/Albion_Crest.png) of "[The Albion](http://www.thealbionclifton.co.uk/)" mounted proudly near the door. "Nor do they organise clay pigeon shooting trips? Or deep sea diving groups? What deep seas do we have, anyway, the canals?" Merlin pointed to the menu page on "groups and events".

"You have this strange anti-establishment streak, Merlin," frowned Arthur. "Established and old doesn't mean it's no good, you know. Is that why you don't like us?"

"Don't like you? I don't not like you? I'm having drinks here with you. In a _pub_. With a crest."

"Fine, then next time we have drinks at my shop. I'll even cook up some nibbles for you, and you can glug bottled beers with my meat cutters if that makes you happy."

Next time? Merlin liked the sound of that.

"Is that an actual invitation? Has the exclusion order been lifted off, my liege?" Merlin said in mock joy. "No thank you, neutral grounds please. It's bad enough I'm consorting with the enemy."

"There _are_ eight other local shops in the running, you know."

"But we're the only food people. So, naturally one of us will win. How can a retailer be more loved than us? Food, one of the basic human needs, the thing that gathers people together, the way to a man's heart."

"Confident, aren't you?" Arthur said this lightly, but his eyes showed he agreed with Merlin. "You can come to the shop, really," Arthur said again. He seemed to be quite set on making his point.

They paused to drown their drinks. The Winter Pimms was sweet and fruity.

Arthur continued, "You caught me at a bad time, the first night you came into the shop. I was rushing an order for 25 turkeys, Gwaine was sick and Leon was away, so I was brining like there was no tomorrow. I was blasting Adele in the prep area, so I didn't hear you earlier."

"Adele? You listen to Adele when working?"

"Is that all you got out of what I said?" Arthur said in exasperation.

"I do mean it, you really can come to the shop," Arthur's blue eyes were earnest and Merlin read this as, “if you really accept my apology, show it."

"I'm not a vampire, I don't need to be invited to step through, you know." Merlin ducked when Arthur tried to cuff him.

"How do I know I'm not walking into the den of a mass murderer? Butcher by day, killer by night and all that?"

"Merlin you really are ridiculous," Arthur grabbed Merlin in a headlock and this time Merlin didn't resist, but shifted his weight to head-butt Arthur instead. They ended up giggling helplessly, sinking lower down their booth seats.

Some Proper Beers and some actual sharing of life stories later, Merlin gave in and deigned to go back with Arthur.

"To your _shop_ ," Merlin slurred. "Back to your place as in your _shop_." His head appeared to be on Arthur's lovely shoulder, and he was a little sad to have to peel himself away to leave.

"You lightweight," said Arthur. His face was happy and his body seemed relaxed, but he was by far the steadier of two of them, sliding a strong arm under Merlin as they walked. Arthur had to prop Merlin up by the front door for a while he fiddled with his keys, and Merlin took the chance to pull himself closer to Arthur's warm presence and drop his own arm to Arthur's waist. A trim, shapely waist it was too.

Here we are," Arthur said, pride evident in his voice. "This is where I spend almost all my waking hours. It's the same spot where my grandfather opened his original shop over thirty years ago." He plonked Merlin on the bench next to the main door, and sprawled next to him. "This is the service area, that's the place for raw meats, that's the red meats, behind that is for pork and chicken."

Merlin wasn't following Arthur's pointing fingers. He was watching Arthur's face come alive with energy and purpose he introduced his beloved shop.

"So we added a section for cured and smoked meats, and..." Arthur trailed off as he felt the stare. "Am I boring you? The cabinets are empty; we store most things in the back at night. Want to see the back prep area? "

"Definitely. Now that I'm in, I want the royal guided tour." Merlin was well enough to walk by himself, but he liked being plastered along Arthur and kept close to him, in the guise of gathering support.

Once through the double doors, Merlin promptly climbed into the massive steel table at the centre of the room. Arthur rolled his eyes and muttered about workplace health and sanitation regulations, but swung himself up as well to sit together companionably.

"So it's always been a family business then?" Merlin asked. The alcohol was wearing off, leaving him buzzed and much more candid than he normally was. "It must be nice to have family in the shop?"

Arthur shook his head ruefully. "That shows me you've never been in a family business, Merlin." He didn't sound patronizing, so Merlin bit down the reply that not everyone was born with a silver spoon in their mouth.

"It was opened by my mother's grandfather, when he was a young man and quite poor. There weren't many options for an unlettered man in those days. My mother died when I was 18, by the way."

Merlin was unprepared for this sudden diversion into Arthur's family history and could only nod in a show of empathy.

"There was some bad blood between my father and mother's folks, his side calling tradesmen low class and all that. Nobody knew that the business had been left to my mother until she died." Arthur's face was pinched, and Merlin tightened his arm around him. He felt a little awkward to be privy to such personal information, but knew better than to say anything.

"My dad wanted to sell it, he still doesn't think much of the meat business, but I couldn't, I didn't want to do that. It was like hacking off and throwing away that part of my heritage. It's part of my mum and who she was."

"I said I'd help out, and Father tried letting Uncle Agravaine - mum's older brother - run it for a while, but it didn't work. Everyone had their own ideas, and no one wanted to back down." Arthur gripped the edges  and pushed himself further back onto the table. The set of his jaw made him look suddenly older. "So I bargained with Father. Twelve months to try running the place, in exchange for keeping it under me if I succeeded. That's what I spent my gap year doing."

Merlin tried to remember what he was doing in his gap year. Work experience in that Cardiff hotel kitchen. They weren't that far off in that respect, Arthur and him.

"So your gamble paid off?" Merlin asked.

"The short answer is yes," Arthur said resolutely. "I'll tell you the long version another time. God, drinking makes me bloody morose. I promised you food, right?" 

"Too right you are! I'm starving, you refused to let me order anything at that pub, then dissed the kebab shop!"

"Those awful and dodgy kebabs,” Arthur sniffed. “Why eat other people's suspicious meat, when we have the good stuff here?"

Merlin watched as Arthur readied two steaks in no time at all. He greatly enjoyed lolling on the table, Adele warbling in the background, the smell of meat wafting up at him, and Arthur providing incredible eye candy.

"Private dining!” Merlin sighed happily. “I could get used to this!”

"Easy enough, we do this all the time - always have pre-seasoned meat just in case."

“Oh my god, that smells bloody amazing! You're a talented man, Arthur."

“That is completely accurate, for once I agree with you, Merlin.” Arthur presented the sizzling steaks with a flourish. “The butcher’s secret cut, no less.”   

Merlin polished his food off in no time and lay back on his elbows contentedly. "This is great. So you bring all your pals back here?" He looked down at Arthur, who was finishing his own steak seated on a stool as "civilized people eat _at_ the table, Merlin, not _on_ it".

"Not really, no." Arthur said, setting his knife down.  

"No? I'm sure you bring the ladies here, then, those you want to impress, eh?" Merlin teased.

"Yes, about the people I want to impress, but no, not girls."  There was a gleam in Arthur’s eye.

"It is very impressive, I have to say."

"Why? Are you impressed?" Arthur smiled broadly at Merlin, his face open and mischievous in a way Merlin had not seen before.

"Very. Exceedingly. Stupendously. Fantastically. Shall I go on?" Merlin grinned. "But I was already impressed before you brought me here." Merlin flipped so that he was lying stomach down on the table, chin in his folded hands, his face on the same level as Arthur’s. He should have felt exposed and vulnerable, spread over the table like a piece of meat, but Arthur's expression made him continue.

"I think you might have been sizing me up too. So? What do you reckon? Or do you need more of an inspection?" Merlin pushed Arthur's plate aside and sidled closer to the edge and to Arthur. They were very near to each other now, their faces almost touching. Arthur‘s eyes were soft and intent, studying Merlin almost thoughtfully. Merlin had a good feeling about this and he hoped it wasn’t just the steak talking.

"I wouldn't say no to a closer examination of the merchandise, no," Arthur murmured. He closed the last bit of distance between them in a kiss, tilting Merlin's head up. _Oh yes! Finally, finally…_

The burst of happiness in Merlin’s chest was disrupted by a pain in his neck. "Ah, let me get off. Not the best position..." Merlin scrambled off the table.

Arthur crowded him against the table. He was so near all Merlin could see was his strong chin and his nose, both of which Merlin happily kissed. Arthur tasted of the steak they’d been eating, slightly salty and very delicious, and Merlin had a whiff of spices and herbs and a musky scent. Oh _yes,_ Merlin could eat him up indeed.   

Merlin wrapped his arms around that glorious back and hugged as tightly as he could. Arthur was so strong, so muscular and right here; Merlin could hardly believe it. He relished the sensation of Arthur enfolding him, with arms cinched around his waist and hands clasped over the small of his back.  Arthur's breath brushed over Merlin’s lips and cheeks in puffs; Merlin wanted to press his lips over Arthur’s and suck furiously, but settled for mouthing at Arthur’s chiselled cheekbone instead.

“Like what you find?” Merlin said, voice unsteady.

Arthur moved his hands lower, cupping Merlin’s arse. Merlin jolted at that touch, pressing his crotch directly into Arthur’s.

“Acceptable so far,” Arthur mumbled. “I need a more thorough inspection, though.” Arthur kneaded Merlin’s bum, and Merlin was in a world of pleasure, caught between strong fingers and groin. He arched his back for more of that glorious sensation, pressing himself against Arthur and... Was that him whimpering?

Arthur tilted his head so that he was kissing Merlin directly. “Stop fighting me, Merlin.”

Merlin didn’t mean to. Every time Arthur kissed him, his body went into a spasm of delight and his head jerked, causing him to bump into Arthur inelegantly.

“Oh, you. Hold _still_ , “Arthur’s grip tightened as he wedged Merlin in, pressing and humping. Merlin dispensed with all shame, spreading his legs wider and letting himself cry out loud, “Yes, Arthur, oh yes!” His voice echoed, magnified in the big empty kitchen. Adele’s singing had come to an end sometime ago.

“More skin, Merlin,” Arthur said, licking Merlin’s neck and blowing on it, making Merlin squirm even more. He was sure Arthur was doing it deliberately and taking pleasure in seeing Merlin wiggle around.

“Yes, but let go first,” Merlin said.

Arthur tongued at the hollow of his collarbones one more time before he released Merlin and stepped back. Finally Merlin could see him properly.

The harsh white light made the place look weird and sterile, but, still, Arthur standing there was the hottest and sexiest thing Merlin had seen; the colour was high on his cheeks, and his gaze was boring into Merlin like a predator set on his target. Merlin could not imagine how much more luscious Arthur would look on an actual bed.

“Skin?” Arthur pulled at the edge of Merlin’s tee- shirt and eased it upward.

"Impatient,” Merlin grumbled, but allowed Arthur to pull his shirt off. When Arthur tugged at his own shirt, Merlin stopped him. “No, leave it on. But could you..." Merlin scrunched from the hem to the neckline and pulled the whole thing over Arthur's head, leaving it rucked up behind Arthur's neck. He ran his hands up and down Arthur’s glorious chest and newly revealed abs. “It’s incredibly sexy. You're incredibly sexy."

Arthur looked at the impromptu capped sleeves bunched tightly around his biceps. "Now I feel like I'm in an episode of Fraternity X," he said, flexing his chest experimentally and making Merlin grow even harder.

“Shhh... Humour me. Your trousers can go, though,” Merlin said. He palmed Arthur’s erection and slid the zip down.

“Yours too,” Arthur said, reaching out. After some bumping and crossing of limbs, they were finally undressed. Maybe Merlin hadn’t thought through this fully;  this was probably the reason why he’d never gone beyond kissing in a kitchen. It was too bloody cold.

“Hey,” Arthur said, noticing. “You ok?”

“Fine,” Merlin said, easing back up on the table. His breath caught as his bum met the icy cold surface. He was used to kitchens with warm ovens going at it full tilt, not meat chillers and freezing prep tables that squeaked against his bare skin, but he’d be damned if that stopped him now.

“I’ll warm you up,” Arthur said, and proceeded to do his best to do just that, following Merlin onto the table and blanketing him with his own body, caging Merlin’s head with his forearms and sliding his legs between Merlin’s. Merlin reached up and stroked down Arthur’s back, waist, bum, and lingering on the round curve of his arse. The skin was so smooth, the muscles so firm; Merlin was in heaven from that silky touch alone.

“More,” Merlin said, the “please” unspoken.

Arthur aligned their cocks together and resumed thrusting. The sparks of pleasure from the friction made Merlin groan. The sensation of Arthur’s hot, hot body was only heightened by the frigid block beneath him, and he squirmed, making Arthur bear down even harder on him.

There was a pause when they scrounged for supplies in Merlin’s wallet, since Arthur didn’t keep anything at work. More accurately, Arthur scrounged because Merlin refused to move from where he was, flat out on his back on the table. He missed Arthur's touch and body heat immediately, and surprised Arthur by grabbing him down to him once he returned.

"Oomph!" Arthur huffed, face smushed into Merlin's shoulder. "Missed me already?"

Merlin answered by hooking his legs over Arthur and holding on for dear life.

It took a while (largely because Merlin was loathe to allow Arthur to move far from him), but eventually Arthur was gently stretching Merlin with his fingers, sweeping over Merlin's torso with his free hand, and murmuring things Merlin couldn't quite catch, but that made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. His outsides were pretty hot and sweaty by now too. The smell of sex pervaded the air.

After what seemed like an eternity of Arthur pumping slick fingers inside him and circling his hole, Arthur finally stroked his bum by way of signalling, and eased himself in. His cockhead nudged Merlin's hole once, twice, three times, and then he was inside.

It was all Merlin could do not to shout the place down. The stretching had been good, but this feeling of fullness was entirely another level of pleasure. Merlin fell back in a blessed-out stupor and flattened his palms on the table. He only looked up when he felt Arthur take one hand and link their fingers together. Arthur was a glorious sight, looming larger than life above Merlin, grunting with effort as he pushed into Merlin again and again. His blue eyes were dilated and lips cherry red. Merlin reached up to push up his damp fringe, gripping Arthur tightly with his other hand. Arthur was really so gorgeous.

"God, Merlin'" Arthur said, "Look at you, all warm and trembly and just lying here..." He shifted his angle and re-doubled his efforts, and the table squeaked and jerked with the force.

Merlin closed his eyes. It was starting to feel too much. Arthur's cock was doing things that rendered him into quivering jelly. With some effort, Merlin said, "Ahh.. Arthur! Yes! Oh… Yes!”  Arthur seemed to like it, reaching down for a kiss whenever he could.

Eventually Merlin was reduced to noisy babble as the rocking intensified. His balls drew up and his stomach clenched in anticipation. He gripped Arthur’s sides with both hands and they locked gaze at the moment where everything exploded in a white light of pleasure.

When the glow had worn off and the sweat was starting to cool, Merlin reluctantly got up. He didn't want to leave his warm and cosy place, held in the crook of Arthur’s arm, his head nestled in Arthur’s neck. His hole was aching a little, and the distance to the ground seemed further than before.

Arthur caught him looking down with trepidation and slid down first, then held out his arm.

“I’m not a _girl,_ Arthur,” Merlin huffed, but he accepted the arm gratefully. His legs still seemed a bit wobbly.

“So,” Arthur said, bringing his arm up to the back of his neck.  

“Hmm,” Merlin looked at Arthur’s nape, where his own fingers had been not long ago. He hoped this wasn’t going to be awkward.

Arthur seemed very focussed on cleaning up. There were bottles of things to spray the table and big packets of wet wipes for Merlin and himself. The water from the sink was freezing, and Merlin was glad to get back into his clothes. The silence was piercing.

“That was a first for me,” Merlin said lightly.

“I really don’t normally do this,” Arthur said, echoing his earlier words.

“We could even it up by going to my shop next time instead?” Merlin asked tentatively. He couldn’t read Arthur’s expressions and didn’t want to be caught out as the clinging one, because God knows, Merlin was an independent and capable adult now, who didn’t need to put his hopes and dreams on whoever he happened to be crushing on. That “whoever” seemed to be Arthur right now.

It wasn’t looking good though. Arthur had lost his easy manner, and he wouldn’t look Merlin in the eye.

“Look Merlin,” Arthur finally said. “I didn’t mean for tonight to happen. It was nice to talk to someone my age who understands what it’s like to, well, you know, do what we do.” He gestured to the shop.

Merlin could see the signs very clearly now, and responded automatically with his default setting of humour and nonchalance.

“I know, it was the fruit tarts that did it, eh? That’s how I seduced you?” Merlin said. He aimed for a light tone, but failed miserably. “It’s no biggie, yeah, was great to _talk_ to you too” _If by chatting you mean we had drinks and you cooked for me and then we fucked on the freaking freezing table of your prep kitchen. And I giggled against your chest and kissed you._ Oh crap, Merlin had to stop his brain right there. 

“I really like you, although you are a bit of a clumsy idiot at times,” Arthur said. “But we’re competitors in that award thing, and I don’t think we can do this again.” He didn’t sound very convincing.

“I’m a clumsy idiot? You didn’t seem to mind just now,” Merlin blurted, a little hurt.

Arthur sucked in his cheeks and pursed his lips. “I didn’t mean it that way, Merlin. You’re you, that’s just who you are. It’s not you, it’s just... all’s fair in business, so I think we shouldn’t mix business and pleasure right now.”

Merlin shook his head. His throat and chest were tight, and it seemed far, far colder than before.  “I’d best be off then.” he said tight-lipped. ”Don’t want to force you to consort with the competition.”

Arthur didn’t reply. He shrugged and pursed his lips again. Oh, those lips.

Merlin swallowed and said, "Thanks for dinner.” His mother would be proud; manners, at a time like this.

Arthur silently showed him out, walking with him step by agonising step. By the time they parted ways at the door, Merlin had oscillated between begging Arthur to change his mind and giving Arthur a sound telling-off at least three times.

In the end, Merlin settled for a shrug of his own and a bump of Arthur on the shoulder as a good-bye.

======

For the days that followed, in an epic bout of regret, Merlin thought of all the things he could have, should have said to Arthur. Freya and Will knew that something had happened that night, but Merlin didn’t want to give them all the details. It still stung that it had been great, then suddenly it wasn’t anything anymore.

Both of them had given him a big hug before he set off this morning for good luck. It was another session of community service; and more importantly, Arthur would be there.  

Merlin perched on the high stool at the Beeb filming kitchen, shouting at the top of his voice. 15 hyperactive children ran circles around him, physically and metaphorically.

A gleeful pair of kids pushed their cupcakes towards Merlin.

“Sir, look at mine!” “Mine too!” Their chubby fingers were spotted with icing and the cupcakes was lopsided, but Merlin couldn’t help but smile and pat them encouragingly.

Merlin loved it that the kids were so excited. For this short time, they were able to forget whatever waited for them at home and just let loose like kids were supposed to.  

Arthur loitered at the other end of the kitchen for the whole session under the excuse of helping the kids at the back. He seemed to expect that Merlin would be angry with him, but Merlin had just ignored him with a genial air.

“All done?” Lancelot asked brightly. Merlin gave a thumbs-up. Lancelot got kids to chant the basic food groups one last time, then they packed them packed them off, each child clutching their precious stash of cupcakes. The social worker from the Children’s Home stood and counted till the last child skipped past her, and waved good bye to Merlin as she followed them off.  

“That was so nice,” smiled Lancelot.

Merlin shrugged. “They can't show their faces for confidentiality reasons, but their voices and the baked good would have been taped. Everyone loves happy kids.”

Lancelot was lovely, business-like and very professional when he needed to be, but humorous and charming when off the clock. It didn’t hurt that Lancelot ("just call me Len”) had a head of wavy dark hair and smouldering eyes that twinkled each time he laughed.

They had just settled down with their drinks and were recounting about some of the kids’ antics when Arthur came into view. Merlin had seen him slink away at the end of the session and had been torn between relief and disappointment.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked. "Did you want something? I thought you'd left."

Arthur was scowling. "That's where you snuck off to! I came back from the restroom and there was nobody there!"

Oh, it was like that, was it? Merlin shrugged and motioned to Arthur to sit down, but Arthur only wrapped his jacket more tightly around him and glared at Len.

Len paused in mid-sentence, took one look at both their faces, and smoothly said he really had to go, yes right now.

Merlin refused to be cowed by Arthur glowering next to him. He took his time to wave Len goodbye, exchanging contacts and making him promise to come visit EMchanted.

"He seemed very friendly,” Arthur said sourly.

“He is, yes. I usually work with his colleague Elena instead, they’re both great. Which is why it was so awkward when you were so rude to him just now.” Merlin stopped, not sure where the conversation was going.

"Well, excuse me if I stayed back to help you and instead find you on a _date_ instead! Do you know that he's married?" Arthur's face was darker than the espresso Merlin had been staring into.

"No I didn't know, anyway, it wasn't a _date_ , honestly." Merlin wasn’t going to go easy on Arthur. Who did he think he was? "Not that's any of your business, Arthur."

"Oh," Arthur mumbled. Some of the tight lines on his face eased up. "Well, it looked like one from here. I was just looking out for you."

"We didn't leave you out on purpose, you know," Merlin thought it was like talking to a child.

Arthur fidgeted with his jacket zip. "I was just looking out for you," he repeated. "As a friend. We can still be friends right?”

That wasn’t what Merlin hoped Arthur would say.

“What do you mean by ‘friends’?” Merlin asked. ”You already said no fraternizing with the enemy, although we’re not really in some serious, big-time competition, so what does that leave us with?”

Arthur continued fidgeting and stared into the distance.

“Am I not being friendly?” Merlin was exasperated now. ”I can’t read your mind, mate. What do you want from me?”

“How about a drink? At a pub?” Arthur said. His words came out in a rush.

 _“No._ Because look how that turned out last time.” Merlin said the words before he’d realised it. Arthur’s face fell, and his lips made an O shape.

“I didn’t realise that was such a hardship,” Arthur said stiffly. “My apologies for foisting it on you.” Merlin saw the look in his eyes as he turned away, and caught his arm instinctively.

“Wait,” Merlin kicked himself for being such a soft-hearted twat and blundered on blindly. “Ok, a drink.” He thought quickly- what would be the safest? No warm pub, no cosy restaurant. “I already have a coffee here, I'll get it to go, and we can have walk around?” Yeah, no risk of romanticising stuff when they were out there in the February chill.

Arthur’s eyes lit up. His blond fridge bobbed as he nodded quickly.

They walked outside in relatively silence, weaving around the crowd. University students were emerging from the huge wooden doors of Wills Memorial and dissipating into the direction of the pubs and Halls of Residence.

It seemed Merlin had once again not fully thought things through. On the streets, he felt like a human icicle lumbering along and wished desperately for something (someone) warm to hold. It wasn’t like he could hug Arthur or jam his hands into Arthur's cosy looking fleece jacket.  Merlin's hands were so cold he could barely hold his drink properly.

They hadn't walked ten steps when Merlin, his eyes fixed on Arthur in a furtive side-glance, slipped and went down on the steep pavement.

Arthur made a grab but he was too late. Merlin dropped his coffee and very nearly dragged Arthur down with him. Merlin ended on his back, slightly stunned from the impact, with Arthur yanking him up by one arm.

“Honestly!” Arthur huffed, breath coming heavily with the exertion, “Merlin, you are such a klutz!" He bit his lip. "I mean, such a... For goodness' sake, be more careful, won't you? One day you'll break a leg or crack your skull on the sandstone!"

Merlin was starting to shiver. The rain had been at it all day and was getting heavier. His bum was wet, the coffee made his jeans sticky and horrible, and his wrist ached. "Arthur, not now. Can you not  - let's take a raincheck. I'm tired and I still have to go back to the shop."

Arthur helped him up and patted the dirt off him. "I can at least walk with you back there?"

_Ok, whatever._

"I think I'd better keep a hold of you," Arthur said. "Just in case there are more slippery patches."

"Ouch!"

"Sorry! What was that?"

"My wrist is a bit sore, don't touch it!"

"Is this better?"

"Yes."

Arthur took hold of Merlin's upper arm instead, a firm, warm presence nestled next to Merlin’s torso.

Merlin felt a hundred times better once inside EMchanted, and even more so once he'd stripped off his wet clothes. The place was still warm with the residual heat from the ovens. Everyone else had gone for the day, but Will had left the day's takings for Merlin to bank in.

Arthur's cough reminded Merlin he hadn't come in alone.

"Er, thanks," Merlin shouted through the door of his office to where Arthur stood on the shop floor. He felt churlish to send the man right back out into the pouring rain. "Would you like a hot drink? It won't be a minute."

"You look like you're ready for bed," Arthur said when Merlin emerged. Merlin looked down on his well-washed track bottoms and sweatshirt.

"My spare set of clothes," Merlin shrugged, snagging the boiled kettle and two mugs from the back. "All sorts of accidents can happen in the kitchen. Sugar's here and the milk is in that fridge there. Speaking of accidents, I wonder if there are any rejects from today, I’m starving." Merlin rummaged in the fridge and unearthed some pastries. "Aha! Éclairs! Un-iced and misshapen, but I can remedy the first thing and I don't care about the second."

"I know you said raincheck, but I'm staying," Arthur said. He didn’t seem to have heard what Merlin said.  

"Hmm?" Merlin held out the éclairs and fished distractedly for some chocolate. “I’m not feeling that terrible now, it was that horrid rain. You can stay if you like."

Arthur grabbed the Ikea step-ladder that doubled as a stool and folded his legs under him. He watched Merlin dip the éclairs into the melted chocolate. As usual the chocolate got everywhere, and Merlin licked the remains off his fingers- waste not, want not.  Arthur shifted in his seat, eyes wide and intent, seemingly unaware that he was staring at Merlin’s mouth. You’d think he’d never seen melted chocolate before.

"Merlin, you know when you asked me what I wanted?" Arthur asked. He was still staring. Merlin wondered if they were going to have this conversation now.

"Uh huh?"

"What about you? What do you want?"

Merlin set the éclairs out to dry, and sat next to Arthur. He looked at Arthur's handsome face, now all serious and noble, thought  the fun they had together, the time they had fucked and how hot it was, and something swelled in his chest.  Merlin swallowed and said, "I'd like to give this a go. Goodness know why, you're such a snob." He rubbed Arthur's forearm lightly, a little uncertain of Arthur's response, "But I think we have enough in common." _And you're so hot and fit and you have an arse to die for and a face like a film star_. Instead he said, "You don't cook too badly either."

There, Merlin had said enough.

"Today, when I thought you'd left me to be with that Lancelot guy, it was a horrible feeling," Arthur said. The corners of his mouth turned down, and Merlin wanted to kiss him till they turned up again. "I prefer it when you're with me," Arthur continued," And when I'm with you, I kind of like it."

"So the award thing? You've decided it's ok?" Merlin didn't want history to repeat itself.

"I want very badly to get it, it means a lot to me. It'd show my dad, and my staff deserves it, they've been supporting me faithfully." _Oh, Arthur, you deserve it too._

"I get that," Merlin said. He did. If EMchanted got it, Will and Freya and Gaius would be so pleased and they would get all that publicity. "However, I also know that us being, um, us, won't affect the results."

"But what if you win," said Arthur. "I can't be happy for you. Or if I win, then I'd worry about you."

"Arthur, that is so sweet of you to say that," Merlin moved right in front of Arthur now, so that they were face to face, foreheads almost touching. "We've made it so far with our shops, love, this is just one small thing. We weigh the risks in business, right? Well, in this deal, I think the pros far outweigh the cons." Merlin looked into troubled blue eyes. "If it makes you feel better, we can keep it quiet till the award is over, it's announced in a couple of weeks, anyway," Merlin said.

Arthur bit his lower lip.

"I like it better when I'm with you too," Merlin said. "I'd really like to do many many things with you." _Or to you!_

As Merlin was starting to give up hope, Arthur inhaled and gave a slight laugh.

"Look at us, a pair of idiots," Arthur shook his head. "You're making me a moody teenage girl!"

"You make _me_ a clumsy fool! I'm not like that with anyone else, I swear!"   _Perhaps there was still a chance._

"You're right, Merlin. It's one award, there'll be others." _Yes! Yes, yes yes!_

"Naturally I'm right. Here, let me sweeten the deal," Merlin effected a calm manner and pulled the rack of éclairs over. "I don't have bubbly, but we can raise a toast with éclairs and tea."

"There are definite pluses to dating a baker," Arthur said. Now that things had been sorted out, he was beaming and the light was back in his eyes.

"Oi, that's 'pastry chef' to you," Merlin said. Just because he could and because he was dancing on the inside, he double-dipped his éclair into the chocolate.

"These are delicious, Merlin," said Arthur. "Oops!"

"Idiot!" laughed Merlin, reaching for adamp cloth. He turned back to find Arthur tentatively licking the chocolate from his own hand. "Oooh, er. Need some help with that? " Merlin always did say Arthur looked delectable, and the turn of events made him giddy with happiness and a little reckless.

Slowly, so as not to surprise Arthur, Merlin took Arthur's hand and raised it to his own mouth. Arthur gaped and stared, his gaze flickering rapidly between his own hand and Merlin's mouth. Merlin waited but Arthur said nothing, so he continued, feeling hot under the collar as his cock took a decided interest in this turn of events.

Merlin licked Arthur's palm, relishing the rush of flavour. Chocolate tinged with vanilla, smooth and creamy, gave way to  glorious skin. He traced what he imagined was the life line, the Mount of Venus, then moved to the fingers, feeling around the tip, nipping at the folds at the bony joints and gliding over the thin skin on the underside.

Arthur's hand was big and rough, and Merlin was getting hard thinking of those hands on him, in him. He heard Arthur purr, low and resonant, like a contented lion. Merlin then slowly sucked Arthur's index finger, taking it as deep as he could into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and making slurping sounds.

"Merlin," Arthur rumbled. Merlin looked up to see a smudge of chocolate on Arthur's mouth. He let go of Arthur’s fingers and made for his mouth instead. "Yes?" Merlin murmured, kissing Arthur softly, then harder. Arthur responded by pressing back and gently nibbling Merlin's lower lip, then flicking his tongue and asking for access. It was a sweet, hot kiss, like cinnamon and toffee apples and mulled wine... Oh!

Merlin grew bolder. He'd missed Arthur. Since they last fucked, he had thought often about Arthur's body, and now here he was large as life, right in front of him, his to touch and to hold. Damn it, he wanted more of Arthur right now, never mind about acting nonchalant. Merlin brought his hands to Arthur's crotch, palming and kneading the growing bulge. "Yes?" Merlin said again.

Arthur's answer came when he pressed his own hand over Merlin's and groaned in pleasure; the pink on his cheeks became full-blown red, highlighting his cheekbones and making Merlin feel torn between staying where he was and reaching up to stroke and lick those cheeks. He didn’t think Arthur would let him let go of his dick, so he settled for stealing a kiss before continuing to acquaint himself with Arthur’s cock.

Merlin peeled Arthur’s trousers from him, pushing him against the wall and onto the stool, kissing parts of Arthur as they emerged; the juts of bone on his hips, the muscular thighs flecked with golden hair, the flat toned belly and even the dip of the belly-button until Arthur laughed and writhed and pushed him away, saying, “Merlin, that tickles!” Merlin giggled with him and tucked that information away for future use.That would be very useful in future.

Arthur’s whitie tighties, true to their name, fitted him like a second skin. Merlin gleefully played with the waistband before pushing it down, freeing Arthur’s dick from its cotton confines and releasing the musk of Arthur. When he finally put his hand on it, bare skin to bare skin,  he  could feel the erection branding him, hot and dripping. The spots of pre-cum on Arthur’s pants that had teased Merlin were nothing compared to the clear slick on the tip. Arthur’s dick was as big and impressive as Merlin remembered, and he fisted it, experimentally at first, then picking up speed and strength encouraged by Arthur's twitches.

Merlin dropped to his knees in front of Arthur, on top of the bunched trousers that were pooled at Arthur’s feet,  and took Arthur’s dick in his mouth. He was gratified to hear noises tear out from Arthur, grunts and gasps in close succession.

Merlin greedily sucked and laved. He grasped the base of Arthur's cock and lightly squeezed. It had been a while, but the old tricks came easily to Merlin; he took Arthur all the way to his base, then pulled back quickly, smearing the pre-cum all over the length. Then he did it again and again.

Arthur slid his fingers through his hair, making Merlin glance up. Arthur was leaning back, face slack and eyes expectant, breathing heavily. The sight made Merlin's breathe catch and he scrabbled frantically at his own zip.

"Mer-Merlin," Arthur moaned, voice rough and laced with need.

Merlin’s arousal was stirring in his own veins as he sucked and ran the flat of his tongue up the underside of the shaft. When he reached the head of the cock, he swirled his tongue and licked the slit. Above Merlin, Arthur was drawing in big gasps, clutching at Merlin's hair and swaying back and forth. The harder Arthur tugged, the more Merlin pushed his tongue against the slit, drawing even more moans.

It was glorious to have Arthur this way. Arthur, usually so self-assured and capable, was helpless and compliant in Merlin’s hands; he was shivering, panting with need and arching up desperately. Merlin couldn’t even catch Arthur’s eye, Arthur had given up his struggle to keep his eyes open and now leaned back, head tilted in ecstasy lost in a world of hot slick pleasure.

Merlin buried his face in Arthur's pubic hair, smelling him, tasting him and fondling his balls.  He could sense Arthur start to lose control and that made him tighten the seal even more, and suck even harder, plunging down until he could feel Arthur  all way at the back of his throat.  His lips were sore and saliva was dribbling down his chin, but he didn’t care, fuelled by his own desire and Arthur’s indecent sounds.

A particular strong pull warned Merlin and he pulled back as Arthur came with a loud grunt, spurting white ropes into his fist. Merlin wiped his mouth, tasting the saltiness of the cum, then rubbed the cum back onto Arthur, holding his dick till the pulses slowed. He caught Arthur as he slumped, gently leaning him back against the wall.

Merlin wasn't done yet. Taking himself in hand, he straddled Arthur and rocked into him. Arthur was strong, solid and real.  Arthur's dick was soft from the orgasm so there was little friction, but Merlin was aroused from just being in Arthur's lap and was desperate to feel more of Arthur. Even with his shirt still on, Arthur was incredibly hot and fit, and his face was still flushed from his release.

Merlin worked himself steadily, pressing himself against Arthur's chest and balancing himself with one hand on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur gazed up dreamily at him, debauched and breathless, looking so inviting that Merlin couldn't help stealing kisses on his jaw, his forehead and the top of his head. Merlin tightened his thighs around Arthur, arched his back and swayed his bum just for  the incredible feel of Arthur’s thighs under him. How was it possible for Arthur to radiate so much life and strength?

Arthur’s breath grew steadily stronger, and by the time Merlin was close, Arthur had recovered enough to match his rhythm, finally grabbing him by the hips and tracing a path down his crack. Merlin's thighs were quivering from the effort and his heightened emotions, and Arthur's fingers so near his furl pushed him over the edge to white-hot completion.

He tried not to fall onto Arthur, but Arthur held him tightly and he let himself melt into the embrace. Finally his, this lovely amazing man. Merlin could hardly believe it.

"First my shop, now yours," said Arthur wryly. "I can't look too hard at my prep table anymore, do you know that?"

"Worse for me, right? I handle chocolate and cream all the time," Merlin said, eyeing the splotch on Arthur's shirt.  

"Cream? Oh!"

Merlin had run his hands down Arthur's front and was playing with his nipple through the fabric of his shirt. The cream had squirted near there, and he traced the outline of the stain. "Shall I clean that for you?" Merlin bent down to kiss and mouth the curve of Arthur's chest.

"Merlin! You're insatiable!"

"I'm hungry! I told you!" Merlin grinned cheekily at Arthur and hauled them both up. "Alright, maybe not tonight then. I do have to get the cash and the receipts."

"Better you than me," grunted Arthur as they got cleaned up and dressed. "Eat your éclairs, hungry boy. Yes, I'll have some too. But meantime, you can keep _attending_ to that stain on my shirt, since you started it."

"Bossy pants, that's what you are," Merlin said. He manhandled a grumbling Arthur to sit the kitchen counter. He plonked himself behind Arthur, snaked an arm around his waist and happily explored all parts of that man cleavage.

Arthur harrumphed. "It's called a chest, Merlin." He turned his head so Merlin could see the face he pulled.

"What an unsexy name. I'm appreciating you for your true specialness, Arthur." From where he was seated, Merlin could lick Arthur's ear, nibble his neck and nip at his cheeks, and he proceeded to do all that as well as steal bites from Arthur’s éclairs.

"Hey, don't get cream in my hair, you fool, "Arthur said, not sounding like he meant it at all.

"Arthur, you're delicious, tastier than any of my creations."

"You're not part vampire, are you, Merlin?"

"Only happens..." –  _Kiss, kiss, lick_ –  "... With you, Arthur." _Kiss, kiss._

"I have to go, Merlin, it's a long day tomorrow. Food Standards Agency inspectors are coming," Arthur said finally. He twisted around to give a deep, long kiss, then stood up to leave.

"So, I'll see you in two weeks then?" Merlin didn't really want to wait that long. "Or can I visit you before that? I don't really have a proper lunchtime."

"Neither do I, but maybe we can co-ordinate our breaks?"

======

Two weeks of furtive rendezvous and quick coffee dates later, it was time. The week of the "Best Loved Local Shop" was upon them, and Merlin would be glad for the tension to be over.

Arthur had been getting increasingly fidgety. Merlin had learnt to read him better by now, but still trod carefully where High Steaks was concerned. They could talk about HACCP and bitch about supermarkets stealing their business, and the terrible parking situation in their area, but not about why High Steaks had Uther Pendragon's name on it when the man was nowhere to seen, or what happened to Arthur's previous staff called Mordred, or, most importantly, what would happen after "that" Award was announced.

Merlin thought about that last part often.

He imagined everything could be above board, and he could casually pop over to Arthur’s shop and hang around, and Arthur could come by EMchanted boldly instead of skulking by the back door, and he and Arthur could finally go to each other's flats and go on proper dates (that's if they ever had enough free time at the same time) and do whatever dating people did. Since Merlin hadn't been with anyone since he was a student when life was carefree and idle, he couldn't imagine what that might be. But if it was with Arthur, he was sure it would be wonderful.  

These were the thoughts on his mind when he got the call informing him EMchanted was Bristol's Best Loved Local Shop for 2014.

"What?"

"Bristol's Best Loved Local Shop? This is Mr Emyrs? Of EMchanted?"

"Give me a minute." Merlin was met with a gust of wind as he took the call in the alley out back behind EMchanted. Fuck it was freezing and he hadn't brought his coat.

He made the caller repeat the information and go through next steps while he thought rapidly. The lady explained the legalese and fine print of the award again, including the obligation to appear at shows, promotions and tours etc.

Merlin interrupted her." Can I ask who the runner up was?"

"I'm afraid that's confidential information! I can't disclose it, sir."

"Is it Mr Pendragon's shop? High Steaks? Please, it's important, I need to know. Just, just keep quiet if it is?"

The lady fell silent.

Ah, so there it was.

Merlin's stomach churned. There'd be other awards, wouldn't there? He was sure there would be.

"If I don't accept this, will it go to the runner up then? Or can I swap places with them? It's not an audited competition, is it?" Merlin asked. He staggered against the wall. "Yes, I'm serious. Yes, you heard me right. Um, I can't spare the time to do the promotions, so I've decided not to accept it. No, I don't want time to think about it, but I can confirm it for you any way you need."

Merlin's eyes stung. He recited stock phrase that came into mind mechanically. "I do appreciate this, it means a lot to us, but it's not the right time for us. Thank you. We won't be blacklisted for future awards, will we? Oh, that's good, that's a relief."

His phone kept pinging with alerts all throughout; impatient Arthur was suddenly on break and looking for him right now, right now.

He really didn't feel like seeing Arthur, his head was still spinning at the enormity of the win, the hugeness of what he had achieved and then had given up. Why couldn't things be simple and happy like in the movies?

_< can't now busy sorry> _

Hopefully that would pacify Arthur for now.

Merlin huddled into the recesses of the doorway, curling away from the wind. He thought about his old home, and his mother's kitchen, and hanging onto her apron, and balancing on the little stool so he could see up the counter-top. Some of the warm air and baking smells wafted out from The EMchanted kitchen, and he closed his eyes, trying to regain some sense of certainty of who he was and assurance that he was doing the right thing.

Even his memories weren't enough. Merlin gave in to the stab of longing for his mother and rang.

"Mother? It's me."

"Merlin! Love, what a surprise! Is everything all right?" Merlin's gut unclenched a little at Hunith’s warm tones. He exhaled slowly.

"I need your advice on something. I'm not sure I've done the right thing." Merlin paused. He didn't quite know how to tell Hunith about Arthur.

Instead, he haltingly asked, “Mother. Have you ever had to choose between your business and someone? Someone important to you."

With the unerring instinct and good sense of mothers, Hunith conveyed she knew something was up, and that someone new was in Merlin's life, and that it wasn't a hypothetical question.

But she also didn't push Merlin. She just reminded him that she loved him very much, and that she would always, always put him before any shop or any business.

"But I'm your son, Mother. What if it was some other person?"

"Sweetheart, it would be the same. I'd pick a person over a shop any day."

"The shop feels like a part of me." It hurt for Merlin to say this. He rubbed his eyes. "It's like I have to choose between two parts of myself. I don't want to."

"What's the matter, Merlin? Is someone ill? Or your shop in trouble?"

"No, nothing like that, no." Thank goodness, no. "It's more like a missed opportunity. I...let it go to another business. I wanted him to do well."

"Ah, it's a _him_ , is it?" Hunith sounded amused amidst her concern. "You'll have to let us meet him soon, love."

"Umm. Yeah. Well. Mother... It's not that he means more to me than the shop. It's not like that."

"Dear, it's fine even if he does. Does it have to be either or? Maybe it won't really be that bad, the shop will have other opportunities."

"Mother! You haven't even met him yet and you're already on his side."

"I'm on nobody's side except yours, my dear son. So I want for you whatever makes you happy. As long as it doesn't bankrupt you."

"Give me more credit, Mother," Merlin snorted at the thought.

"You've always had a loving heart, Merlin. I know you'll do the right thing. He's lucky to have you."

"Mother!" Merlin flushed at how Hunith was speaking so casually about Arthur. "Stop it."

"Oh, love. You know I love you very much, yes?"

"I love you too, Mother."

Merlin pressed the heel of his palm onto his face and willed himself to act normal. He took a deep breath and looked up.

"Argh!! Arthur! You scared me!"

Arthur's face loomed large in front of him, all big blue eyes and furrowed brows.

"You'll freeze out here, Merlin," Arthur promptly swaddled Merlin in his fleece jacket, pulling him close and wrestling Merlin's arms into the sleeves.

"Will said you were out here. I wanted to talk to you, but you looked like someone died. What's happened?"

"You were here? How much did you hear?" Merlin squeaked.

"Why? Are you hiding something from me?" Arthur leaned back to look Merlin in the face.

"No, no, just worried about my mum," Merlin said, lamely. "But it was.. er, a false alarm." He looked down and tried to divert the conversation. "You wanted to get a coffee? I can't now, though, like I said..."

Arthur's face shuttered slightly. It was an unusual look for him, and Merlin didn't like it at all.

"Not coffee," Arthur said. "Can we talk? Somewhere warmer?"

"Talk? Oh." Merlin's heart dropped.

Arthur's brows lifted. "I don't mean it in a bad way, Merlin. I promise you, I still totally want this, I want..." Arthur took Merlin's chilled hand in his warm one. He hugged Merlin tightly and kissed him softly. "I just don't want you to get hypothermia right at your own doorstep."

Merlin let himself be bundled back in and both of them squashed into his tiny office. Arthur looked out of place in his butcher's garb surrounded by makeshift cabinets.

"I wanted to tell you personally," Arthur said carefully. His gazed flickered all over Merlin's face. "We got it, Merlin. High Steaks! The award! I can't believe it, it's amazing and I'm thrilled. I didn't dare to hope but it's happened!" He looked searchingly at Merlin, his expression almost pleading.

"Arthur, that's, that's great," Merlin said. Bloody hell, BRA certainly did work fast. He swallowed hard and spoke with more certainty. That's…great. I'm pleased for you, I am."

Arthur's mouth drooped slightly. "Merlin, I'm sorry..."

"Nothing to apologise for," Merlin said, shaking his head. He'd done this to himself, it wasn't Arthur at all. "I am a little disappointed." Crushed, more like it. "But I'll get over it. I'm glad it was you that got it, not that twat with the Hello Kitty collectibles shop."

Arthur's eyes were still worried and questioning.

"I'm just a little tired," Merlin said. "Gastric pain been bothering me. Just give me a bit of time, yeah?" _Time to get over this and to genuinely be happy for Arthur._

Arthur seemed to get it. He planted a kiss on top of Merlin's head and left. Merlin decided to call it a day, pleading gastric pain (which was partly true). Arthur's smell stayed with him all the way home, borne by his coat which Merlin was still wearing.

  
======

The sense of discontent subsided gradually, and Merlin was perturbed he'd felt that way at all. He hadn't thought he'd wanted the award, but there it was, he might have been lying to himself a little. He didn't breathe a word of it to anyone, and after a few days of jumping guiltily at every phone call, it seemed he'd pulled it off.

He called Arthur the day after and made up for his initial lukewarm response with promises of an actual date night, at somewhere that wasn't one of their shops (they'd agreed Chinese food was a good neutral place, then disagreed on which was the best Chinese restaurant in town).

Things settled back into a normal rhythm, except with more of Arthur here, there and everywhere.

"You again?" Merlin would laugh by way of greeting, when Arthur took to showing up every day at EMchanted, sometimes more than once a day. "Some of us have to work, you know." "You’re not the only one who got up at the crack of dawn today," Arthur's eyes crinkled most attractively whenever he cuffed Merlin. Merlin didn't mind as smooches always followed.

When the formal award presentation rolled around, Merlin was genuinely at peace with life. He clapped the loudest when Arthur held up the naff plaque and posed for photos with the BRA people. He hooted and wolf-whistled together with Arthur's meat cutters, whom he'd got to know and got along well with. He hovered by Arthur when Pendragon senior called in and Arthur beamed no end during the short conversation. He hung at the back of High Steaks (carefully avoiding bumping into anything) listening to the many old customers who came by to congratulate Arthur on the award. And if Merlin felt a pang now and then, he brushed it aside and gave Arthur an extra brilliant smile.

After High Steaks closed that night, the staff had a small celebration; this took the form of lots of alcohol and riotous cheering, accompanied with blasting music. Merlin sat by Arthur's side, cosy and pliant in the midst of the merry-making. It was like Christmas in the middle of March, since someone had dug up wine and mixed it with fruits and spices. Arthur snorted when Merlin said as much. "With this bloody weather, it's not different from Christmas, is it?" Arthur said.  

Arthur's merry men (as Merlin thought of them), who had been descending into bawdy drinking songs, heard him and said, "Christmas? Yes! Come on, lads!" They all belted out, "On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me! A blow job in a pear tree!"

Arthur roared with laughter and Merlin joined in, enjoying the festive atmosphere. The men winked at Merlin and rolled their eyes towards Arthur, making Merlin laugh even more. The mood of the party was so different from EMchanted, but seemed totally in line with the personalities of the people here.

Arthur's men pulled closer to their boss and said with great cheek and swagger, "Art! It's your hour! Let's have a butcher's boy song for you, eh?" Arthur protested loudly but only got more wine for his troubles. The men said to Merlin, “This one's really for you too."

 _For me?_ Merlin was really curious now.

The leader of the pack, the Irish guy with swishy hair, mimicked a girl's song voice and started singing. It was [rollicking catchy tune](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kEvx7oMINEQ), and Merlin didn't know whether to blush or to laugh at the lyrics.

 

Got out late last night, in the rain and sleet

Tryin’ to find a butcher that grind my meat

Yes I’m lookin’ for a butcher

He must be long and tall

If he want to grind my meat

Cause I’m wild about my meat balls

 

A no good man but he’s so doggone stout

Before he starts to grindin’ he’s all worn out

Somebody send me a butcher

He must be long and tall

If he want to grind my meat

Cause I’m wild about my meat balls

 

He can clean my fish, even pick my crabs

But what I need is my meat ground bad

Yes I’m lookin’ for a butcher

He must be long and tall

If he want to grind my meat

Cause I’m wild about my meat balls

 

At this point, Arthur was bright red and Merlin was in stitches. Mr Shampoo Commercial broke the song for a moment to shout, "Somebody's found his butcher, eh? Long and tall!!" The rest hollered in agreement, and the singing resumed.

 

You can have your roast chicken and your good lamb stew

But for my choice them old meat balls will do

Somebody send me a butcher

He must be long and tall

If he want to grind my meat

Cause I’m wild about my meat balls

 

Now look here papa, don’t try to stall

If you can’t grind a long time, don’t grind at all

Yes I’m lookin’ for a butcher

He must be long and tall

If he want to grind my meat

Cause I’m wild about my meat balls

 

Amidst the wild clapping and the hoots, Merlin leaned in to whisper to Arthur, "Heard that? I'm _wild_ about my meat balls!" He grinned as Arthur went even redder and then, feeling bad to gang up with the rest against Arthur, flung himself at Arthur and hung on for dear life.

There he clung by Arthur's side till the night was over, the beer bottles dumped into black bin-bags, the shop locked up securely and all the good nights were said and back-slaps given. Then it was just the two of them, walking away from High Steaks in a happy huddle.

"Come back to my place?" Arthur said.

"I thought you'd never ask," Merlin said happily. "I'm dying to see your place."

"Don't get your hopes up, it's no palace. It's not even as well-stocked as the store."

It was true, it wasn't. It was a modest flat across the Downs, nicely furnished, but a little sparse on personal effects. Arthur shrugged and said, "I spend so much time at the store anyway."  Not that Merlin was that interested in interior decorations, he'd meant he was dying to see Arthur's bedroom and said so plainly.

"Wait," Arthur said. "I have something for you."

"I'll bet you do," Merlin said, shamelessly grabbing Arthur's bum now that they were by themselves.

"No, I really do! Wait!"

Merlin followed Arthur, his hands still firmly planted on Arthur's arse, into the kitchen. "What is it?" Merlin pouted. "Can't it wait?"

"I can, but..." Arthur emerged from the larder with a flourish, twisting a little oddly because Merlin still refused to let go of him. "Merlin, you limpet! Look! For you!"

Arthur held a small cake, roughly iced with the words "BEST LOVED". His face was expectant and a sunny grin split his face in half.

Merlin stared, dropping his hands in surprise. "You made this? For me?" Nobody except his mother had ever made cakes specially for him before. He couldn't tear his gaze away.

"Don't look like that, I _can_ do things with flour too." Arthur pulled him close and enveloped him in a bear hug (Merlin wasn't sure how he managed that without squishing the cake, but who knew with Arthur).

Merlin felt his heart grow in his chest, warmer than any oven and lighter than any chiffon cake. "Arthur," he choked out.

"You're the best, Merlin, you really are," Arthur whispered into his neck. "You're the best part of me, you're MY Best Loved."

Merlin hugged Arthur even more tightly. He could see a future full of tasty steaks, warm cakes, a cosy kitchen and home, spent with a delectable, warm-hearted and hot butcher boy, and it was glorious.

FIN.

=====

 

**Author's Note:**

> Gwaine's song about the butcher boy grinding meat balls is not mine, to hear the song in its wonderful cheeky glory by Lil Johnson (from a record aptly called "Risque Blues"  
> http://www.last.fm/music/Lil+Johnson/_/Meat+Balls (on last.fm)  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kEvx7oMINEQ (on youtube) 
> 
> And for the cutest picture of a Butcher's Boy: http://www.fleishers.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/Meat-Grinder-Valentine-789x1024.jpg


End file.
